


What the Frogs Knew

by Trobadora



Category: Frog Prince (Fairy Tale), Original Work, Sleeping Beauty (Fairy Tale)
Genre: F/F, Fairy Tale Mashup, Fairy Tale Retellings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 06:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/pseuds/Trobadora
Summary: We were always by the pond, remember? Always right there for every frog to hear. And my heart grew fuller with every day.





	What the Frogs Knew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scintilla10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scintilla10/gifts).



> You suggested Sleeping Beauty as a potential fairytale princess to be paired with the princess cursed to be a frog. And the Brothers Grimm version of Sleeping Beauty, aka [Little Briar Rose](https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Grimm's_Household_Tales,_Volume_1/Little_Briar-Rose), begins with a frog telling the Queen she will have a daughter ...

It was a frog, you say? A frog that promised your mother the Queen a daughter, when it seemed she would have none? Is that why you didn't mind me talking to you, from the start?

All right, all right. You wouldn't have minded, no matter what. I know you wouldn't. 

But I'm not surprised by what the frog told your mother - not surprised at all. The frogs knew, you see. 

Frogs always know. Their memories work both ways, into the past and into the future, and their _ribbit, ribbit_ carries it all from well to well, from pond to pond. So they knew about you and me from the start.

(Why didn't I know? Because I'm not a frog, love. I was only cursed to be one, and I couldn't understand much of their song.)

For frogs, everything has always already begun. But for me, it started the normal way, at the beginning. I was sitting in a cool, shadowed spot by the pond, hiding from the day's heat, nothing but a frog to the people who occasionally sat on the bench by the pond, but not truly a frog among frogs. That was long after I'd given up the hope that wishing would do me any good. They say there are fairies that will give you your fondest dream for no reason but kindness, and worse creatures that'll give it to you for a price. But I never saw either of them, so you couldn't prove it by me. That unicorn horn you mentioned is more likely to be real.

I wasn't a frog. I wasn't human. I was nothing, and I almost got used to it.

There I was, minding my own business, when your ball splashed into the water, right next to me. And you cried, and I fetched it for you, and you told me throwing and catching a ball helps you think, and we talked about the books we'd read about faraway places.

I'd stopped trying to talk to people, by that time. They don't take well to speaking frogs, not unless they're making promises, and I had none to make. Why did I talk to you that day? Perhaps I was more bored than usual, dear. Perhaps you were prettier than usual, with that rose-crown of yours on your lovely hair. Though you were crying, and not prettily - face all red and blotchy, you know, angry-ugly crying, because you'd get scolded for losing the ball, and you'd also get scolded for dirtying your dress, so it was all lose and no win for you, and I know by now that nothing frustrates you more than that. So it probably wasn't your pretty face, after all.

Curiosity? You would say that, and maybe you're right. Curiosity, once piqued, isn't easily extinguished, and I never quite learned how to leave well enough alone. That's how I got in trouble with the witch that cursed me, poking into things that weren't my business. I'll tell you that story later, too, love, but we were talking about us, on that first day, and about frogs.

You were a little wide-eyed, hearing a frog talk about books, but you got past it quickly enough, and you gestured and laughed, and you were enjoying yourself. With me. I fell a little in love with you right then.

I asked for nothing, and you promised nothing, but you came back the next day, and the one after, and the one after that. Remember how we would talk? Even though I was a frog, you would smile at me, and your eyes would light up when we spoke about the places we'd have liked to see, and when we argued about the strange animals we'd read about, and wondered which of them were real. You told me about a unicorn horn you once saw, and even though you believed in it and I didn't, there was always laughter in our fights, and no bitterness.

We were always by the pond, remember? Always right there for every frog to hear. And my heart grew fuller with every day.

What? Come on. You couldn't have felt the same way. I was just a frog. Did no one human ever talk with you like that? 

Oh. _Oh._. I'm sorry. I didn't know. Your parents meant well, I'm sure. Protecting you from the threat of a curse by isolating you. A whole lot of good it did them, though.

Any frog could have told them. But of course they didn't, because they already knew.

All right, back to what happened. One day, you said you'd be busy for a few days, but you'd come back as soon as you could. Remember? And then you didn't. Don't apologise, now - we both know why. But I didn't know then, and I was very cross, love, and I had a mighty sulk all by myself by the pond, and all the frogs heard me go on about it, and got mightily sick of me in turn. _They_ understand human speech just fine, after all. And they all croaked at me to leave them in peace in their pond.

So it's really their doing, come to think of it. Because if they hadn't, who knows what I'd have done? I might not have gone, after all.

And then I wouldn't have found the hedge around your castle, and the men hacking away at it while it grew back faster than they could cut, growing denser, higher, thicker all the while. (Not so thick, though, that a little thing like a frog couldn't find a way through!) I wouldn't have found the castle with everyone asleep, and you, lying there with your crown fallen off your head, a spindle in your hand.

Frogs don't cry; did you know that? But I felt like crying, all the same. 

I knew you were cursed. I knew it was hopeless. I was only kissing you good-bye.

But you woke, just now, and your eyes brightened when you saw me, and even though I was a frog, you kissed me back, didn't you? Full of joy.

Yes, yes, you told me so. I concede. It wouldn't have worked if you hadn't felt the same. 

You kissed me, love, and here I am. With two kisses, we broke two curses. The third one was the best, though - your mouth against mine, human and awake, the laughter bubbling from your lips, your hands holding me.

I told you my name, and I heard you say my name for the first time. "Ranida," you said, and you kissed me again. I cried. Your shoulder is still soaking wet, but you don't care at all, do you? And then you asked me about your mother's frog.

Say my name again, now. I'll never get enough of hearing you say it, not in a hundred years.

There you are. Don't mind the tears. I'll stop eventually, I'm sure. And I'll tell you who I was, why I snuck out of my father's castle and met a witch. I'll tell you how I was cursed, and we'll go on from there. I hope you won't be angry. I deserved it, you know.

Oh! And I'm sure we'll go back to the pond, won't we? After we explain it all to your father, and all the guests in your castle have left, and things have settled down a little. So the frogs will see how it ended, too.

And once they do, they will always have known. See, they really did know everything ahead of time.

So, that is why the frog knew your mother would have a daughter: it knew you would be born, because it knew you would meet me. 

Don't frown at me that way. I don't like fate much, either, but I don't think that's how it works, with what the frogs know.

If I'd been less bored that day, I might have ignored you and your golden ball, and we would never have talked at all. Or I could have been churlish about your ball and tried to extort payment for my help, and you might not have liked me. I could have been too angry to go looking when you didn't come back, and I would never have broken your curse. And if I hadn't, well, then you couldn't have kissed me back, could you, and you wouldn't have broken mine. And only the frogs know what might have become of me then. 

We had choices, you and I. We might never have saved each other. Who knows, some stranger might instead have found you one day, a long time from now, and you might have been very happy with him or her. If I'd never met that witch, perhaps that's how it would have gone for you.

What? You're glad I was a frog, then? Well, yes, if I'd never been a frog, none of this would have happened. So really, we owe it all to the witch who cursed me, don't we? 

I wonder if _she_ could understand the frogs' songs.


End file.
